Whispers in the Dark
by I Worship Steven Moffat
Summary: Inspired by the Mumford and Sons song of the same name. Castiel explains to Dean why his mother had to die.


_You hold your truth so purely_  
_Well swerve not through the minds of men_  
_This lie is dead_  
_And this cup of yours tastes holy_  
_But a brush with the Devil can clear your mind_  
_And strengthen your spine_  
_But fingers tap into what you were once_  
_And I'm worried that I blew my only chance_

_Whispers in the Dark_, Mumford and Sons

* * *

"Do it."

Dean was almost unrecognisable. His face, ordinarily so ruggedly handsome, was bloody and swollen and the skin around both his eyes badly bruised. Castiel almost did it—he was so close.

But the sight of the hunter, so beaten and willing to die, was sickening. "No."

A tear slowly traced its way down Dean's face, cleaning a path through the blood and grime. "Please."

Castiel's eyes, so cold and unfeeling, softened. He knelt beside the hunter and furrowed his brow. "I'm sorry, Dean. Truly I am."

He pressed two fingers against Dean's forehead gently, almost tenderly. Within seconds they were inside the room of a nondescript motel and Dean's face was young and whole once more.

"Why didn't you do it, Cas?" His voice was hollow. "I mean, look at the mess I made. What I've done to—to Sam, to you! Hell, I deserve to die. I_want_ to die. Just—look at what I did in Hell! What I did to all those souls! Man, I was happy doing it, too! I didn't regret it for a goddamn second. I thought it was _right_. Please, Cas. Please."

Dean spread his arms out and shut his eyes tight, preparing himself. Castiel felt something stirring deep within the chest of his vessel, but attempted to ignore it.

"No. I will not kill you, Dean." Castiel's voice sounded strange to both himself and Dean and it was not until later that he realised it was because he felt sorry. As an angel, he was technically not permitted to express emotions. Castiel, however, had been odd since—since that day.

"I truly am sorry. I do not wish this life upon you. If it had been in my power, I would have saved your mother when I had the chance."

Dean opened his eyes, tears already forming in the green orbs. "You what? Cas, what are you talking about?"

Castiel smiled sadly. "Oh, Dean. Did you think perhaps it was by chance that I saved you in Hell? No, our paths have been destined to cross from the moment you were born. You see—" he sat down on one of the motel beds and clasped his hands neatly in his lap "—Mary Winchester (your mother, of course) was always going to die in that fire. In fact, Uriel ensured it. We've had a plan for you since the beginning. I believe that when you were a very small child, your mother told you something. What was it again? Oh, yes.

"She used to say, 'angels are watching over you'. Perhaps my essence was bleeding through, but she was not lying to you. I was…compromised. I wished to save her, and in turn you, but Uriel made sure that I was detained before I could do anything. Then it happened, and I was locked away.

"My prison was strong, but I heard whispers in the dark. I had to listen to the horrors unfolding for you and your brother second-hand. It was only when they devised a plan to rescue you from Hell that they released me. I was told to find you and bring you back, and I did.

"It was then that I realised just how strong you were and I…Dean, I had been locked away for twenty-two human years. For an angel, that is the sentence of twenty-two hundred years. I was devout to my Father, but there were cracks. Saving you and being told to watch over you once more…it made the cracks bigger.

"Something like that is dangerous for a divine being like myself. See, because I saw what you became, my ties to Heaven grew weaker and my affinity to this world grew stronger. So I fell. Not like Anna. I have my grace still. I have, however, become more…human since I met you. For angels, that's like a death sentence. We have simple rules. Don't become like the humans we watch over. Don't think for ourselves. Keep faith in God, though only four have seen him. The list goes on.

"The point is that all of this is my fault. I didn't have the power to stop Uriel when you were a child. And now you have been to Hell and back and now you face this. I am sorry, Dean. I did not know it would come to this."

Castiel noticed that Dean had begun to cry and swallowed the lump rising in his throat.

"Cas, why didn't you tell me?" the hunter asked, breathing heavily.

"I—I did not think that it would be wise. I regret my actions now. I hope that you will forgive me." Castiel looked down, unable to meet the man's eyes.

"Forgive you? Cas, you couldn't have done anything to stop Uriel!" Dean protested. When the angel refused to believe it, he grabbed his arm. "Listen to me, Cas. _I forgive you_. You got that? It wasn't your fault. Stop beating yourself up about it. Okay?"

"Dean, I—"

"Oh, shut the hell up, would you?" Dean complained. Then he lunged forward and his lips found the angel's and they were lost to the sweet oblivion of white-hot bliss.


End file.
